Sweet Child of Mine
by Alovernotahater
Summary: It's May 2, 2013. It's Sam's birthday. It's also his death day. Sam has been gone for six years, and Dean's life has completely transformed. One night, Dean wakes to the cries of his three-month-old son, and reflects on the time gone by. Sorry for the sucky summary. Rated T because I'm paranoid. Enjoy!


**A/N: Hi, everybody! This is my VERY FIRST fanfic, and I'm super excited to share it with you!**

**So basically, this takes place six years after "All Hell Breaks Loose, Part II," but I have a different take on it. Sam died, and Dean has had to live his life without his little brother:(**

**Including the fact that Dean never makes his deal to save Sammy, there are other differences in this story.**

**Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this. Read and review, pretty please:)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own ANYTHING whatsoever!**

Dean rolled over in bed, groaning as he was jerked from blissful sleep by the cries of his newborn son. The shrill noise rang from the baby monitor sitting on the nightstand beside the bed.

Dean groggily turned his head, glanced over to see his long-time girlfriend Daniella was still asleep. He groaned again and begrudgingly pushed himself out of bed, stumbling blindly across the hall to their son's room.

He shuffled over to the crib and leaned over the guard rail, blearily rubbing his eyes. "Hey, buddy," he murmured hoarsely.

The three-month-old baby merely cried some more in response, kicking his little legs in protest.

Dean sighed and picked up the baby, beginning to check to see what was wrong with his son. It only took him a few moments to realize the baby needed his diaper changed.

Dean set the child down and grabbed a fresh diaper. He quickly changed and disposed of the dirty diaper, and picked up the baby again. He set the little boy against his shoulder, sitting down in the rocking chair in the corner of the nursery. He rubbed the infant's back soothingly, humming "Hey, Jude" softly. Dean remembered that his mother Mary had used to do the same thing for him when he had been a baby, and his heart was filled with an all-too-familiar sense of nostalgia. Mary had been dead for nearly thirty years now, and Dean still missed her as if she had died just yesterday. He had always wanted to have Mary watch him grow into the man he was today, and he was sad that his child would never get to know her.

The little infant was now asleep and limp in his father's arms.

He shifted his son a little in his arms and checked his watch on his free wrist. The time was 12:06 AM.

Dean rested his cheek against his son's head, taking deep breaths as an aching sense of loss swept over him.

Today was May 2. It was Sam's birthday. What would have his thirtieth birthday.

It was also his death anniversary. Sam had died exactly six years ago. He had been killed by Jake, one of Yellow-Eyes's wannabe soldiers, in the haunted town of Cold Oak.

Tears welled and fell from Dean's eyes as he remembered the devastation he had felt as his little brother had died in his arms, blood seeping from the knife wound in his back. He remembered the grief, hard like a stone in his heart. He remembered losing his sense of purpose, his reason to live. He remembered hunting Jake relentlessly, desperately hoping the burning rage would fill the hole in his life, even if only temporarily.

He had recruited his surrogate father Bobby Singer to help him with his mission, and the older man had almost immediately agreed.

After a few months, Dean's obsessive hunting had begun to scare Bobby, even though the older hunter had understood the craving for revenge. Bobby had stuck by his adopted son's side, all the way up until the moment Dean had shoved a knife into Jake's back, the same way Sam had been killed.

The two hunters, along with their good friends Ellen and Jo Harvelle, had managed to stop Azazel's plan to open the Devil's Gate in Wyoming and kill the yellow-eyed demon. Dean had gotten his justice, and the group had saved the world. But Sam was still gone.

Dean had done his damnedest to bring his baby brother back, but nothing took. No demon wanted to deal; there was no creature who would resurrect Sam Winchester, even for the rich price of Dean's soul. Sam was dead, and he stayed that way. Dean eventually had left the hunting life, knowing there was nothing for him without his brother to look after.

Dean and Bobby had eventually put Sammy to rest. Dean had initially insisted on only burying his little brother in case he'd found a way to bring him back, but after a while Dean had lost hope in raising Sam back from the dead. The two men eventually agreed to do the right thing, and they had salted and burned his body, making sure his spirit would not remain. For Dean, the decision had hurt like hell to make, but now they could only hope that Sammy was not in hell, but... somewhere better. Dean would never mention it, but in the deepest corner of him, he hoped that Sam was reunited with their mother, Mary, and that they were okay now.

With nothing to hunt and no revenge to seek, Dean sunk into the deepest pit of despair he could possibly dig for himself. He began to drink himself unconscious every single night; he picked fights at bars with random, volatile fellow drunks very often. He had nearly gotten himself killed more than a few times.

At his lowest point, Dean had once tried to commit suicide. He had lain in an alleyway in Chicago, his gun pointed to his temple, when a woman saw him.

"Please don't do this, sir," she had begged. "Let me help you."

That's when Dean had met Daniella, the love of his life. The woman who had kept him alive and given him purpose when he had had absolutely nothing left. He loved her with every fiber of his being, and knew she was everything he needed in his life. After all, she knew the truth of who and what he was, and had loved and accepted him anyway.

After meeting Daniella, Dean had pulled his act together; he had quit drinking, left the hunting life completely behind, now had a stable job as a mechanic, and was even planning on proposing to her on their fifth year anniversary. He planned on using his mother's own engagement ring. He could only hope that Mary would be proud and happy for him.

Dean had also reestablished his relationship with Bobby, and named him Dean's son's godfather. These days, Bobby came around at least once a week to visit Dean and Daniella and the baby. Honestly, Dean's life was now a million times healthier than it had been in the weeks after Sammy's death.

Now, Dean looked down at his son, and was filled with conflicting nostalgia and grief. His little boy bore some resemblance to his uncle. He had the same dark hair and long legs. Dean couldn't help but think his son was going to be a Jolly Green Giant, just like his uncle. It filled him with both happiness and sorrow. On the one hand, it was almost like he had a little piece of his younger brother with him even today. On the other hand, Dean knew his brother and his son were two very different people.

With his free hand, he clutched the amulet Sam had given him when they were children. Dean never took it off, and didn't plan to any time soon.

He fought off his sadness and continued looking at his little child, his flesh and blood. And he was filled with a deep sense of pride, somehow instinctively knowing his son would grow up to do something great one day. Just like his uncle.

He slowly got up and placed the baby back in his crib. He gently rubbed his thumb over the wisps of dark hair on the baby's head.

Dean wiped away his tears and smiled down at his sleeping son.

"I love you, Sammy," he whispered, and bid goodnight to his precious child for the night.

**By the way, this took me, like, forever to write, so I reiterate: hope you enjoyed it!**

**Review, please!:)**


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